Getting It Out (Part 2)

Some details are very fuzzy. Some are crystal clear. It's amazing what the mind remembers and what it forgets. Memories and memories of memories. Some things are mixed up and may be wrong. I've recalled that night a thousand times and I doubt I have remembered it exactly the same twice.

Nothing stands out about that previous evening. We had been having a lot of problems maritally, but it had gotten relatively quiet. We were approaching good terms again. Things were settling down to the point that we could be civil with one another and even sleep in the same bed. We were starting to see things on the same level and it was getting better (not the marriage itself, but our ability to understand why it wasn't working). As I said, there was nothing peculiar at all about the evening. I'm pretty sure we laid in bed, her watching TV and me reading. It was a calm evening and there were no harsh words spoken and feelings of animosity. There were no I love yous, either. The TV was eventually turned off, the lights flipped off, we said our good nights and went to sleep.

I woke up in the middle of the night, around 2 am, hearing Laura breathing strangely. It seemed like she was having a dream of some sort. I was foggy and just wanted to go back to sleep, so I gave her a slight nudge hoping to settle her down a bit, maybe rouse her from her dream. I didn't want to wake her and my easy prodding didn't do anything, so I got up and went to sleep on the couch. I had spent more than a few nights out there the past few weeks, so it was just natural for me, I guess. I dropped onto the couch, pulled the blanket over me and fell right to sleep.

I expected to be awoken around 5 am by the sound of Laura feeding the cats or jumping in the shower getting ready for work. Instead I was met by her alarm going off. I laid there waiting for her to shut it off. It never takes her more than a couple of seconds. In fact, her alarm never woke me up because she shuts it off so fast. But not today. A couple of minutes go by and still nothing. The radio was blaring. She'll be up in a minute, I thought. I'll just go ahead and crawl back into bed until she gets up. It's pitch black in the house, but I don't need light. I walk down the hall still half asleep, go into the bedroom and slip into bed next to her. I lay there for another minute or two, yet still the alarm blares. I nudge her gently. Nothing. I gently shake her arm. No response. Her body feels heavy. My senses slowly begin to enter my head. Something is wrong. I get up and walk over to her side of the bed. It's still pitch black, but I feel her alarm until I hit the right button. I shut it off and start to shake her a little bit more, softly calling out her name. She's not responding. Her body is just a heavy weight. Something is really wrong. Why won't she wake up? I call her name louder and louder. Panic starts to set in. WAKE UP! I go over to the switch and flip the light on. She's on her back with the covers pulled up above her chest. Her arm is hanging off the side of the bed. It's almost entirely purple. Her lips are purple. Her mouth is slightly open. Her eyes are slightly open. They're distant. I know instantly. She's dead.

I grab her phone and call 911. They answer quickly. I demand an ambulance. I tell them my wife won't wake up. She's not breathing. SHE'S DEAD. They ask if I know CPR. I say no. I can't possibly think of what to do and I need help. I need instructions. They ask if I can pull her onto the floor so she's on a hard surface. Not a chance. I'm totally out of sorts and completely freaked out. I can barely stop sobbing long enough to hear the instructions. Hold her nose. Put my mouth on hers and blow in. Her whole body is heavy and solid. I breathe my air into her lungs. My wits again creep back in. I give her chest compressions. I already know it's useless. She's gone. She's been gone for a long time. Still, maybe there's a chance. Anything is possible. I hear the sirens pull up. They arrive quickly, though it seemed like an eternity. The front door is locked. The dogs are out. I run out of the room, put one dog away and unlock the front door. I usher in the paramedic quickly. It's just him and me. We run back to the bedroom. He asks me to help move her on the floor. I grab her arms. Her cold, lifeless arms. He grabs her legs and we move her to the floor. There's not enough room. We have to move her to the family room. We drag her limp body out there. I can't do anymore. He doesn't need me anymore. He starts CPR. Others start coming in. I collapse in the hallway, convulsing in a heap. I can do nothing but cry. Still more people keep coming in. Paramedics. Cops. Someone tries to comfort me. I vaguely remember being told to breathe. I'm not sure how I managed to even do that.
They put Laura in the ambulance and head to the hospital. I can't go. Brenna is sleeping and I can't leave her. Brenna. Oh God. Poor Brenna. At some point I managed to call my mom. I don't remember when. The timeline is a blur. I don't remember what I said. I just remember telling her to come now. I can't go to the hospital until she gets here to stay with Brenna. Poor Brenna. I also call Laura's parents at another point. I think right after the ambulance had left. How do you tell your wife's parents that their 29 year only child is in the back of an ambulance on her way to the hospital. And she's dead. But nobody has confirmed it. I don't think I told them she was gone, just that they needed to get to the hospital right away because Laura wasn't breathing.

Nobody would give me answers. I made my way to sitting up on the couch, still crying uncontrollably. I ask if she's dead. Nobody will answer me. Nobody will tell me anything. If she were alive they'd tell me. They know she's gone. A detective comes over and introduces himself. He reminds me to breathe and tells me if I don't I will pass out. He tells me the news. She never woke up. She was gone. Forever. I can't cry any harder. I already knew, but hearing it was something different altogether. This made it official. No miracles. I wasn't wrong.

So much of the rest of the morning is a haze. The questioning. What happened? How did it happen? Why? Why? People are showing up. Mom. Brothers. Friends. I have to tell them all. Over and over. Every new person. Neighbors outside wondering what in the world happened. I have to make phone calls. More family. Friends. Work. Laura's friends. The babysitter. Brenna's still asleep. Our little Brenna. Peacefully resting as our world is ripped apart below her. She will never again get to see her mother. I will never again get to see my wife. So many questions. So much regret. So much pain.

Much like that morning, the day was a total whirlwind. I make phone call after phone call. Breaking heart after heart. Reliving the nightmare again and again. Saying it over and over. Hearing the reactions. Incredulous. Confused. Angry. Suspicious. So many reactions. So many phone calls. So many people. People have to know. Nothing will stop. Life doesn't wait. No time to think about anything. Denial doesn't step in. Depression does. Deep sadness. Nothing will be the same. I don't know if anything will ever be OK again. I don't know how it could be. Doesn't matter, because it has to be. Brenna needs it to be. She's lost her mom. She needs her dad more than ever, and she needs him better than he was before. There is no alternative.

The next several weeks and months will be a literal hell. The waiting for answers. The grieving. The sadness. The pain. The accusations. The hate. It's all there. It's all on me.

Getting It Out (Part 1)

It has been a very good weekend, as far as weekends go. The good weekend didn't stop the inevitable creep of sadness that has fallen over me. Great and wonderful events that I enjoy stir a sadness within me. I attended a very lovely wedding on Saturday and didn't really notice the pain building once again. I should have. I should have expected and known. I guess I still have my moments of naivete. I don't walk around with my guard up, so it happens. It's OK, I know how to take a shot or two.

The couple getting married were two friends I had gone to school with. The bride was one of Laura's best friends. Laura's name was even mentioned on the ceremony itinerary. It was a wonderful gesture and remembrance. She wanted Laura there so bad to share this wonderful moment with. I can understand. Brenna and I attending was, as is the case many times, both a blessing and a painful reminder.

That was Saturday. As I said, it was a good weekend. Friday was a blast playing golf with my coworkers, a couple of whom I've gotten to know recently and have managed to make me not hate where I work so much. They've given me hope that I can be happy there. I also met another coworker from a different building. She was fantastic as well. Then I spent the evening resting my weary body and my blinding headache with my girlfriend, who happened to be sick so she was in the mood for resting, too! Brenna was with her grandparents for the evening, so I got to do something I virtually never do-go to bed early and sleep in late! I was refreshed for Saturday and had a good morning and afternoon. Then there was the wedding, followed by a great dinner with my girlfriend, brother and soon to be sis. Today (Sunday) was a very pleasant day. Did the usual run errand thing and ignore football (I'm a Browns fan, not sure why anymore) in lieu of yard work while Brenna napped.

While she was peacefully sleeping I went to work on reseeding the front yard and finishing up the steps on my deck. It was an absolutely perfect fall day. Nice breeze blowing. Cool weather. Leaves covering my yard calling me to rake them. I didn't quite notice it then, either. That feeling. I was doing what I wanted to do, but I was starting to go downhill. Oh well, I thought, just keep working. It will pass. So I finished up outside and was inside relaxing for a few minutes before Brenna woke up. I wanted to get out, though. I needed to get out of the house. I didn't want to be there. I started to sense what was going on. Those moments that were seared into my memory last fall, almost one year ago, were working their way back to the front of my mind. I've been here before. It happens, though much less often than it used to. I wasn't ready, though. Brenna was about to get up. I needed a distraction. Just for a while. Keep it together.

I heard her rustling around so I went upstairs and opened her door. I knew what to expect. I had told her before she went down for her nap that we would go to the park when she got up, so I knew that would be the first thing out of her mouth. The girl's mind is like a steel trap. Just like her mom. Sure enough I open the door and she pops up (from the floor, she's taken to napping under the window on the floor!) and says, "I wanna go swing!" I get her changed and off we go. It's a great evening to be outside, at the park. Just Brenna and I. Not many people around. Doesn't matter because I feel totally alone. I put Brenna on the swing and she wants me to push her higher and higher. She knows no fear. I think back to the first time Laura and I put Brenna on the swing. It was at this park. Brenna loved it. Now she loves it in a different way. She loves flying freely. She tires of it quickly and wants to go down the slide. So off we go. I can't get it out of my head. It's just getting worse. Thinking of how proud and amazed Laura would be of her little girl climbing every which way and flying down the tallest slide, falling on her butt, jumping up and running up to do it again. Keep it together. Just a little bit longer.

We leave the park and make our way home for a quick dinner. I don't want to be in here. It's almost becoming more than I can bear. I feel a mental break coming on. I feel her being gone. I feel so lonely. Brenna nibbles a bit and out we go again. We walk up the street for some ice cream. It's half a mile and I know Brenna will want me to carry her halfway there. It's gonna kill my back. I don't care. I want to carry her. We get there and Brenna gets a kiddie cone. She doesn't quite know what to do with it when she gets down to the cone. She's only had ice cream out of a cup! She offers it to me and I take a small bite. That's her cue to devour the rest of it, which she promptly does as we meander back to the house.

Getting home we relax for a few minutes, then it's off to bed for her. I read her a story (actually she "reads" for a while then I finish it up), give her a kiss, pull the covers over her and head downstairs. Still not time to face it. I have things to do. I have to push on. I want to work out. If I start down this path I will get nothing done. It's fine. I can deal with my emotions later. Start the laundry. Eat something. Work out. Distract.

So now here I am. The nice fall weather has brought me a reminder of that fateful night, which I will share now. Some of you have heard the story. Some have not. Many don't want to know it (which is why I am splitting it into 2 parts, so please don't read the second if you don't want to. It's not going to be easy and may change some things in your mind. You've been warned.) I'm putting it out there for my own sake. I hope it will help. I think it will...